


Small Confessions

by Whatthenshallwesay



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Banter, Does their Relationship Count as a Slow Burn?, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Friendship/Love, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, Pre-Star Wars: Rebels, Protective Hera Syndulla, Protective Kanan Jarrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28662531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatthenshallwesay/pseuds/Whatthenshallwesay
Summary: Hera and Kanan go out for celebratory drinks after a mission, but when Kanan accidentally takes a drugged drink meant for Hera, she learns more about him than she bargained for.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	Small Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> CW: general scummy behavior from people hitting on Hera, drugging with intent to harm

“Let’s celebrate!”

“Or…we could get an early start and make the next job before morning—” Kanan cut Hera off with an eye roll.

“What?” she stopped and rolled her eyes back.

“We don’t even have a ‘next job’ yet.”

“But we _could._ ”

He smirked. “I’m sure we could. But I think I owe you a drink.”

“Since when?” 

“Since you shot the head off of that modified clanker before it took my arm off.”

She smiled. “Oh yeah. Okay, I’ll allow it. Where to?”

“How about this fine establishment,” Kanan held a hand out to a grimy looking cantina across the street. “Maril’s Can?" he squinted at the glowing sign as the “tina” flickered back on and off again.

Hera snorted. “Ah, yes. Go ahead and buy me the finest Maril’s Can has to offer.”

-

The cantina was relatively busy. It wasn’t the scummiest Hera had been to, but it was far from the nicest. It was the type of place where she would probably be approached by someone assuming she was there for another purpose. She took a step closer to Kanan, which usually did more to ward off the creeps than just glaring at them.

“All right, what do you want?” Kanan asked her as they went up to the bar.

“Well, you did promise me their finest,” she leaned onto the bar to scan the bottles, then immediately backed off. The counter was uncomfortably sticky.

“Oooh, they have some stuff from Alderaan.”

“The whiskey. I see it. Yeah, I’ll have that.”

“You heard the lady!” Kanan smiled at the bartender, who looked unamused.

“Yeah. Okay. Anything else?”

Kanan rattled off a custom cocktail and the bartender looked even less amused.

“You want to start a tab?”

“No,” said Hera as Kanan said “Yes!”

They looked at each other.

“No thank you,” Kanan amended.

The bartender sighed and rolled his eyes, moving off to go make the drinks.

“Uh oh,” Hera said quietly, nudging Kanan as they moved away from the bar. “Doesn’t seem like Maril’s Can is very friendly.”

“We should probably let Maril know.”

“Maybe that is Maril,” Hera laughed.

At that moment, someone bumped into Hera. She turned to face them.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” the man smiled, overcorrecting by slowly sliding a hand around her waist to move past her. “You drinking anything?”

“Kriff off.”

“Woah, okay, sorry for trying to be nice,” the guy mumbled, moving toward the bar.

“You think he’d lovingly caress me like that?” Kanan joked.

“If you're lucky. You should at least make him buy you a drink first,” Hera smiled, linking an arm comfortably through the one he offered. They paid and picked up their drinks from the bar and found the least grimy small table in the corner. Kanan reached across the table and took a sip from Hera’s glass.

“Hey!” she swatted his hand away. “Are you _kidding_ me, Jarrus?”

He dramatically leaned back in his chair. “Damn, that’s good whiskey.”

“You didn’t even _ask_ , you absolute gundark.”

“Okay, Okay, I’m sorry,” he slid it back across the table.

“Ohhh no,” Hera pushed it back at him. “It can be yours. I’ll just try whatever fancy cocktail you had made,” she took a sip, raising her eyebrows. “Okay, this is actually good.”

“It’s my special.”

“Is that what you told all the girls during your bartending days?”

“Sure was." 

She laughed. “Okay, but this means you owe me an Alderaanian Whiskey on the go.”

“I thought you wanted to get an early start.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that? You’re lucky I don’t leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said in mock outrage.

“My ship, my rules,” she threw her cocktail straw at him and took another sip straight out of the glass. “Ooh. This is strong.”

"Easy there.”

She took another sip with one hand, flashing a rude gesture with the other. He threw back half of his whiskey.

“Woah,” she said. “You're one to talk. Why don’t you savor my drink that you stole?”

“I am!” he laughed.

“You sure?” she asked, a little more sincerity in her tone. On bad days, she noticed he seemed to have a heavier hand with pouring drinks. He looked over his glass, catching her expression. 

“Hey. I’m fine,” he smiled, reaching across the table to give her hand a quick squeeze.

“Okay,” she pulled her hand away, trying to go back to their lighter tone. “Just checking." 

“So where are we going next?” he changed the subject.

“Well,” she scanned the room out of habit to make sure nobody was listening. “I have a couple of different potential assignments, and I wanted to know your thoughts.”

“All right, Captain. Shoot.”

She launched into a few intentionally vague descriptions, overly cautious of their surroundings, but Kanan usually didn't need much to understand. But this time, as she explained, Kanan’s eyes grew more and more unfocused.

“Hey, you listening?” she frowned.

“Mmmhmm,” he leaned lazily onto his arm. Hera made a face.

“Kanan, seriously?”

“’M sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I think something’s wrong.”

“You think?” she didn’t mean for it to come out so angrily; she was more worried than anything. She grabbed the nearly empty whiskey glass, examining it. “You can drink much more than this." 

“Yes, I can,” Kanan confirmed proudly, his words still slurred.

Hera sniffed the glass, then did another visual sweep of the cantina. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary...No, wait. There. The bartender was staring at them, cleaning a glass. As soon as Hera made eye contact, he turned away a little too quickly.

“Come on, we’ve got to go,” Hera said, a wave of unease coming over her.

“But—I promised you whisk—whiskey? What is happening?” he blinked hard, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, another time,” she stood up, walking over to him. “We really have to leave. _Now_."

“I guess so…don’t...sense anything wrong though.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing, come on, up. Maybe keep your mouth shut.”

He stood shakily. “Okay.”

“Can you walk?” she put an arm around him to support him just in case.

He nodded, moving forward relatively well. She was starting to feel eyes on her, so she picked up the pace while trying not to over do it for Kanan.

“You got your hands full there, baby?” a man called as she passed by. She ignored him.

They made it out the door a little slower than Hera would have liked. She didn’t stop until they were a block or two away from the cantina. Kanan was struggling more and more to stand on his own. She leaned him up against a wall to rest for a moment. 

“Hey, Kanan,” she said. “Look at me.” He looked up, squinting. “You with me?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t know—”

“It’s not your fault,” Hera said. “I think you got drugged.”

“Kriff—what?” he rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, that—that makes—sense, but…that was s’posed to be your drink?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, glancing back down the street. They still weren’t being followed.

He took longer than usual to process this information, then scowled.

“Oh, that’s—that’s _terrible_. I’ll—I’ll kick their asses—I’ll—”

“Appreciate it,” she smiled softly. “But I think we need to get you home right now.”

“I guess. T-Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she pulled him upright, looping an arm around him again and slowly taking him back toward the Ghost. Kanan wasn’t particularly heavy, but walking this far was starting to make her arms hurt. Having to move quickly wasn’t helping the situation either.

She grabbed her commlink with her free hand. “Chop,” she called. “Open the door. We’re almost home.”

He whined something about being out too late.

“Not in the mood, Chopper,” Hera said sternly. The Ghost was mercifully in sight. About 10 meters away from the ship, Kanan’s knees buckled.

Hera groaned. “Come on, we’re almost there. Stay with me…” she pulled him up. His head slumped forward. She felt slight panic as she shook his shoulders. “Kanan, please. Wake up.” If he was seriously hurt, she was going to go back and hurt someone. The ramp lowered.

Hera attempted to pick Kanan up fully and got a few steps before she realized that wasn’t going to work. She resorted to dragging him into the ship by his arms, wincing as he made it over the bump in the doorway.

Chopper was _definitely_ judging them.

“He’s not drunk, just drugged. Can we maybe go to a different part of the planet? We might have been followed.” Chopper complained, going to get the ship prepped. Hera lifted Kanan up to the bench. “Hey.” She said loudly, snapping in his face. He twitched awake. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hera?” he said groggily. 

“Yep. It’s me,” she smiled for a moment before growing serious. “Hey. Stay awake, will you?”

“I’ll try—” he stared at her intently.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I’m trying to stay awake,” he said, then blinked. “You’re very beautiful,” he said sincerely.

“Oh boy,” Hera stood. “I’m gonna get us out of here.” She passed him a bucket that had been stopping a leak she hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. “If you’re gonna vomit, get it in here, not my floor or couch.”

“Yes sir,” he saluted so sloppily and with such a goofy grin it was almost endearing.

“I’ll…be right back,” she nodded. Chopper rolled back into the room. “Chopper…watch him, will you?”

Hera went to the cockpit before she could hear Chopper complain and made quick work of finding a new spot past the next town over. She bit her lip as she guided the Ghost into a tight spot among some trees, thinking about the cantina. If the bartender had tried to drug her, then this situation wasn’t just some regular creep. This might be something organized. The cantina had enough patrons that it didn’t immediately appear to be a front, but there could certainly be something else happening behind the scenes. A more sinister business. Hera’s heart sank. She wanted to believe the best about people, but she had seen too much of the galaxy to let this go. Maybe this would be their next job.

She went back to check on Kanan. He was still conscious, but she suspected it was because Chopper kept hitting his knee every time he would slump forward.

“Thanks Chop. You’re off babysitting duty,” she shooed him away and sat down next to Kanan.

“How we feeling, my friend?” she asked.

“Miserable,” he muttered. “Can’t believe they tried to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” she replied flatly. “You know, we might have to go back and kick some asses, like you said. I suspect I’m not the only one they’ve tried to hurt.”

Kanan frowned more.

“Hey, I’ll get you some water.”

She returned and he took the cup gratefully, taking a sip. “Thanks. I don’t—I wouldn’t have made it back without you.”

“You would have done the same.”

"Yeah,” he nodded, smiling. “But you’re really…really a good person.”

“You are too,” she returned. 

“Hera. Can you _take_ a compliment without returning one?”

“Not sure,” she smiled.

“I’m so lucky to have met you,” he said. “You’re gonna change the galaxy—”

She decided to take it, even though she didn’t quite believe it. “Thank you.”

He nodded, satisfied, leaning his head back to rest against the wall and closing his eyes. He opened them a moment later. "I mean it."

“Okay. Okay,” she laughed. “Thank you. You can rest now.”

He turned to look at her. “Hera,” he said seriously.

“Mmhmm?”

“I love you.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach.

_Oh no._

There wasn’t time for that. This wasn’t the _life_ for that.

And yet, her heart found its way back to its place and warmed in response.

Oh _no._

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I—I didn’t mean to say that…You don’t have to say anything. I would never want to make you uncomfortable or ruin—I’m so sorry." 

“It’s…okay,” she responded, because, oddly enough, it really was. _That's something to sort out later._

“You don’t have to say that. It was...inappropriate. Just please, forget I said—”

“ _Kanan,_ ” she stopped him. Was he actually _blushing_? She couldn’t help but smile.

_**Oh no.** _

“Caleb,” he returned hoarsely.

“What?” she frowned, confused. 

“My real name is Caleb,” he said quietly. “But you should probably forget I said that too.”

His real name. Sometimes she remembered how little she knew about his past. She reached out to take his hand. “Caleb,” she tested it out. It must have been important to his drugged mind. “Thank you for telling me.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. He squeezed back in response.

For the first time, she didn’t let go.


End file.
